I’ve been watching the Eurovision semifinals on catchup… Anyone else watching on Saturday? ^__^

So I was intending to draw something cute, ideally a dog, for A Certain Boy. After about 3 hours of meticulous internet research I came to the conclusion that puppies in teacups are probablydefinitely cute. Then, I drew this.

I think the aliens do think it is cute at least, even if it is a weird changeling with too few eyes; I hope Boy does too! ^_^

It was sunny and warm today and I went to the Beach! This is what I saw.

Ok this is not *exactly* what I saw but there was someone roller skating

My friend is trying to explain neuroscience to me and all I hear is rhubarb rhubarb rhubarb

If I could I think I probably would have suction cups for feet and walk all over windows and glass skyscrapers and …bathrooms I guess. So would this dude.

(Yes yes I was trying to draw suction cup feet and failed. Don’t rub it in!)

This shy and socially awkward creature, rather than facing the inevitable results of its preferred diet of beans-onions-and-cabbage with pride, is so embarrassed at the idea of passing gas that it not only has developed (flightless) wings to waft any smells as far away from itself as possible; it also immediately turns invisible at even the thought of a fart, which has led to a certain interest from the scientific community. Needless to say, its self-consciousness is *not* helped by over-enthusiastic cryptozoologists creeping up on it at all times. Its digestion is probably not improved either.

I’m told alpacas are gentler and have softer fur than llamas; they are also poofier, and altogether make more appropriate living cushions. So I wonder – did someone come up with my llama plan waaaay before me and breed them into better cushions… or have I/will I invent a time machine? O_O

I want a llama I would keep it in my sitting room and cuddle it it would be fluffy and never spit me in the eye it would be a chaise lounge llama and it would be AMAZING

In obscure and inaccessible mountains far in the frozen north, the Sock Monks live. Subsisting on a diet of worms and sticky tape, they dig their vast networks of tunnels, not always deep but far and wide, stretching from mountain to sea, and sea to sea. From wasteland to cultivated land they dig, their tonal drones echoing through the night; a contralto ‘hygge’ with each heave, a heavy and lugubrious ‘lagommmm’ to sound out the morning – until at last they reach the squalid shores of human civilisation. Where the Washing Machines live. Where Socks can be found.

The socks are then cunningly stolen, singly, and sorted. Any with a nice knit pattern are carried all the way back to the mountains, to be presented to the most senior Sock Monks, who then wear them for the remainder of their lifespan. Holes in the heels are considered useful to look through, though more conservative monks consider this cheating and darn theirs (they walk into walls a lot).

There are probably stranger paths to Enlightenment.

PS. And since I completely forgot to actually post the name of the song I was going on about, it was My Melancholy Baby, and it starts ‘Come to me my melancholy baby’, and it’s lovely. Though I do start singing it whenever I see a melon, which can get annoying. ^_^